


Anger and the Art of Cooking

by papersandals (laronmi)



Series: Elibe Modern Verse [3]
Category: Fire Emblem, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:10:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laronmi/pseuds/papersandals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU. Raven is Angry. Priscilla and Lucius are confused. The Cornwell kitchen will never be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anger and the Art of Cooking

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Samuraiter for the beta job. Written for the first round of the Fire Emblem Big Bang.

Her brother was Angry.  
  
When she told Serra, she got an eye roll and a pat on the shoulder, accompanied by Serra's insistence that Raymond was always angry. That was not true. Her brother was easily upset or irritated—that **was** true—but not angry.  
  
Not **A** ngry.  
  
The worst part was that she didn't even know why he was so Angry. He had been fine just a few days ago, and had even baked a triple fruit torte and startled Guy with it. The coming of his Anger was sudden and unexpected; Raymond had gone from her-brother-who-sometimes-baked-pies-and-s

cared-people-with-them to her-brother-who-enjoyed-beating-frozen-ground-beef-with-a-rolling-pin-to-defrost-it-faster.

"At least," Lucius had whispered to her during Raymond's latest bout of hamburger clubbing, "he still cooks to de-stress. It's when he stops that we have to intervene."

Personally, Priscilla was of the opinion that frozen meat abuse was worthy of an intervention, but seeing as the meat Raymond was beating up was already dead and not on an actual living being, she also was of the opinion that it could be worse.

Not that she wanted to see Raymond go so far that worse would be an actual possibility, but still—!

During her Thursday evening shift, Lucius had wandered into the coffee shop armed with a battalion's worth of pasta and meat dishes ready to march into customer's mouths—much to the delight of Lowen, who was happy that there was so much variety to be added to the daily menu, and Serra, who was happy she had an opportunity to gawk shamelessly at Lucius. Lucius himself bore a concerned and preoccupied expression as he unloaded the food in the back, and he left as soon as it was done, stopping only to tell Priscilla that he was trying to work with Raymond and figure out what was wrong.

When her shift finally ended, Priscilla left Guy, Lowen, and Rebecca to Serra's tender mercies and drove ten miles over the speed limit all the way home.

When she arrived, Raymond was cleaning the kitchen counters with a towel and a bowl full of soapy water. Lucius sat at the breakfast table, alternating between poking a plate of homemade ravioli with a fork and watching Raymond scrubbing the counter in fine detail.

"I'm home," Priscilla said. Lucius jolted and turned towards the door, but Raymond didn't react, continuing to scrub away with all his might.

"Welcome back," Lucius said, giving her a weary smile that betrayed just how tired he was. "If you're hungry, Raymond prepared a large meal for us."

"I'm fine, actually. Um, brother? Would you like any help?"

"No," he said abruptly, then added in a minutely gentler tone of voice, "Thank you for the offer."

Lucius set down his fork and stood up, taking the plate of ravioli with him. "Actually, Priscilla, I had something I wanted to ask you. Let me just put this away—"

"Leave it," Raymond practically growled out, and Priscilla exchanged looks with Lucius behind his back before Lucius set the plate down and silently gestured for Priscilla to follow him into the den.

"What's going on?" Priscilla asked once the den door was closed. Lucius moved aside some throw pillows and closed his eyes as he sank into one of the plush Victorian armchairs.

"I still don't know. He was chopping with so much force that the knife was beginning to cut into the cutting board." He rubbed his temples and leaned back. "I managed to convince him to stop cooking, but he just redirected his energy to cleaning instead. As to what's actually bothering him, I have no idea." He sighed and let his hands drop to his lap. "I'm actually close to throwing a tantrum, myself. At the very least, I'm beginning to get angry with how silly he's being."

Priscilla took a seat across from him. The skin on his face was drawn and tight, and the areas beneath his eyes were dark and drooping. There seemed to be a tension in his body, like a rubber band wound too tight, and the shallowness of his breaths made Priscilla not only concerned with her brother's brewing Anger, but also with the amount of stress it put on Lucius.

"When do you go have back to the hospital?" she asked. Lucius cracked open an eye and looked at the clock before smiling wearily.

"At five."

It was eleven twenty at night.

"Go to sleep," Priscilla said, getting up and placing a hand on his shoulder. Lucius sighed again, and Priscilla repeated her request. "You don't even have six hours left to sleep! Go to bed, Lucius. I'll speak with Raymond, all right?"

He got up slowly and patted her hand before gently removing it from his shoulder. "You're too kind. When your own residency starts, you won't be able to shoulder all the burdens yourself, you know."

"I could say the same to you," she said as she guided him towards the stairs. "You're working longer and harder than I will. Also, Raymond isn't your responsibility, Lucius."

There was a brief falter in his steps.

"Ah...yes. Raymond is his own responsibility, isn't he? Perhaps...we both need to keep this mind?" Lucius turned and gave her a smile before going up the stairs to his guestroom. Priscilla watched him until she could no longer see him, and then went back into the kitchen.

Her brother was still Angry.

"Brother?" Priscilla called out in the gentlest tone of voice she had, "It's late. Maybe you should rest for a while."

"I'm cleaning the kitchen," he said shortly. Priscilla stepped closer to him.

"The kitchen is clean enough." A lie. There was flour and dough smudged on the surface of the counters, sauce spilled over the stove, dishes stacked up high in the sink, and the trashcan was overflowing with fruit pits and plastic wrap. The only place that was clean was the small area Raymond had been dutifully scrubbing away at since Priscilla returned. "The kitchen can be cleaned tomorrow," Priscilla revised. "You've been cooking all day; you deserve a break."

"I'll take a break when I'm finished cleaning."

At the rate he was going, Priscilla would have graduated before the kitchen was clean again. She sighed and picked up an apron that was dusted over with flour but otherwise clean, put it on, and then rummaged around for a fairly clean towel before standing next to her brother and scrubbing at the countertop with him. Raven stopped and looked at her for the first time that evening.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm helping you, Raymond."

"You didn't make this mess. You don't have to clean it up."

"I know," she said, reaching over him to soak the corner of her towel in the soapy water. "I'm doing this because I want to. We've both been so busy with classes and work that there hasn't been much time for us to spend together. I want to be together with you now."

She was aware of Raymond tightening his grip on the towel before letting it go completely, wiping his hands on his own apron and then moving in to grab her towel. She stepped to the side as he did so and evaded his attempt.

"Priscilla," Raymond said, "you don't have to clean. If you want to spend time with me, you can sit and talk to me while I clean."

"That won't do. I live here just like you, and I have the right to do as I wish. Raymond, I am not cleaning because I _have to_. I'm doing this because I _want to_."

"You _want_ to clean up this mess?"

"I _want_ to spend time with _you_."

She placed her towel on the counter and, standing as tall as she could make herself, looked him in the eyes. Raymond's expression was guarded, but ultimately not difficult to read. There were little details that, if someone took the time to learn what the subtle nuances of his features meant, were plainly visible and easy to decipher even when he tried to mask all emotion. If the corners of his mouth were farther back than usual, that meant he was trying not to smile; slightly widened eyes and thin lips indicated aggravation; light wrinkles around the corners of his mouth meant he was suppressing and urge to speak out loud.

At that time, Raymond's lips were pressed thin, the corners of his mouth were barely pulled back, and the beginnings of a crease in his forehead was present. Priscilla could read him better than almost anyone, and she read on his face his amusement, his exasperation, and the lightest trace of annoyance. All of that, however, was better than his Anger, so Priscilla remained standing tall.

"Please, brother," she said again, tearing herself away from the fine details of Raymond's face to stare directly at his eyes. "I feel as if it's been so long since we just had a regular conversation."

"This is hardly a regular conversation," Raymond said, but his shoulders slumped down ever-so-slightly, and his tone was not that of the curt, clipped one he used earlier. Priscilla smiled and inched closer.

"We could always change the topic. How was your day?" When his expression hardened again, Priscilla quickly added, "All right, then would you mind if I spoke to you about my day?"

Raymond closed his eyes and stepped back from her, reaching for his towel as he did so. He found it after some groping on the countertops, and he opened his eyes only to turn away and face the counters again. But his voice was almost warm when he said, "Please do. I'm certain it must have been interesting."

"It was," Priscilla said, turning back to her own towel and countertop. She picked the towel and began to clean. "I'll start with the morning."


End file.
